


Just Realistic Shane

by Gabaw



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Explicit Language, Not for the faint of heart, Rage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabaw/pseuds/Gabaw
Summary: This is an extremely angry and sobering rant that goes out to all the little emo kids who think they can relate to Shane because their parents won't respect their non-conformism. Narrated in 3rd person with heavy dialogue. Inspired by KidAbsurdity's realistic depiction of Shane.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Realistic Shane Erotica](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7892332) by [KidAbsurdity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KidAbsurdity/pseuds/KidAbsurdity). 



A sodden, disheveled man stood in a secluded corner of Gus' saloon. It was yet another evening of inebriation for good, old Shane. Yes, Shane was a man of harsh demeanor and wallowed in solitude for most of his miserable existence. However, it has come to his attention that some young'ins have come to relate their little inconveniences in their short, pampered lives to his. While he was content with stewing in his own negativity until he passed out drunk, tonight the dams of anger burst and he would rip them all a new one. The shattering of a thick, glass mug on the cedar floor and Shane's awkward stumbling into the pool table marked the beginning.

"So all you motherfuckers out there think that you know what I go through every goddamn day, do ya?! Let me tell you something, sweet princes and princesses of the world out there. _You fucking don't._ You stupid little fucks couldn't understand if life shoved it so far up your asses that you leaked your pink, squishy innards out of your trendy black lips!" Shane had a few in him already but was still sober enough to stand mostly straight. He burped loudly, stumbling a bit. "Let me give you a fucking idea, right? Try this on for size you entitled jackasses. Every day, _every goddamn day_ , I'm out there working for a soulless corporation at the bottom of the fucking rung. I work 12 hours a day breaking my back and destroying my knees for just barely enough to survive. I got a child to feed and hell, she might be the spawn of Satan I don't fucking know. I have no days off. I wake up tired and sore and angry, never ready to scrape my knuckles on the cement of that retail shithole. I bleed every fucking day and I don't need fucking razor to do it. I cut myself on metal shelves and splintered pallets so that your parents can buy you your favorite fucking brand of shelf-stable chocolate milk, _you ignorant pieces of shit!"_

"And for what? For fucking what?! What the fuck do I have to look forward to?! Where's my fucking future, huh?! For all you bright-eyed optimists out there, I got some news for you. You think working hard, being honest is all it takes to get ahead? That someday the fucking cosmic seaslug will reward you for it all or whatever the fuck it is you think will make it all worth the pain and suffering? That's not life, that's a fucking fantasy. Here's what life is, yeah? Life, fucking _life_ , is nothing but anger and hatred and misery. All these fucking philosophers saying we're in it together, they're right! We're all on this merciless, violent rock together and we can barely contain our urge to kill eachother for _one fucking second!_ Ain't no one out there, _not one kind soul,_ who will give you one second of trust, one ounce of fucking sympathy just for existing, just for working your ass off. You starting to get the picture, shitbags?"

"I'm not done yet! Where the fuck do you think you're going? Don't you fucking waddle out with your tail between your legs. By the time I'm done, you'll be begging your parents to raise you right and instill some core fucking values so you don't end up anywhere near like me. Because, you're not like me, and you ain't never gonna be like me. You're too fucking soft, too fucking spoiled to do anything but pay lipservice to the grim reaper. When it comes time to hang, to put a _fucking hole in your head_ , where the fuck are you, huh? I don't see you here next to me. What's that saying, 'In sickness and in health. In life and _in fucking death_ '? Yeah, I get it. You're young, you think this is as bad as it gets. Well, there is one positive fucking thing I can say. You got your whole fucking life ahead of you to find out just how bad it can get, you sacks of shit. Sometimes you make the wrong life choices, but let me tell you something. The fastest way to get from you to me is to make _no fucking choices at all!_ It's to do fucking nothing while the world throws itself at you and finds out what sticks. If you don't spend _every waking moment_ fighting against the shit sandwich you're force fed from day fucking one, well... _You are what you fucking eat._ "

His rant finally over, Shane slumped to the ground, weary and blacking out. The patrons in the bar all heard bits and pieces of it but they were too busy enjoying themselves to care. They politely ignored him and his tirade like they would every night. In the morning, Shane would go to work again just like he always did. In the evening, he would come here and drink again. This was his life. This was his future. One day, while throwing leaking piles of filthy trash in the compactor, he would fall in, tired and drunk. Another lazy, unaware employee would run the machine and his miserable life would end crushed to death between bags of spoiled milk and used toilet paper, without so much as the luxury of a final word or thought. He was soon posthumously fired and replaced within hours. The world kept turning and absolutely nothing changed.

THE END, douchebags


End file.
